Like many, if not most, of my liberal arts educated contemporaries, I spent most of my college years immersed in feminist theories and thoughts, all of which appeared to give me new tools to understand the world I was living in, and suggested concrete ways I might go about changing the parts of the world I didn’t much like. The first inkling that there might be something amiss with my new tools arose when I gave birth to my first child and became a stay-at-home-mother, dependent on my husband for economic security. It wasn’t so much the sneering contempt for my choice that clued me in. I met the ubiquitous “goodness! What do you do all the day?” comments with aplomb, I…